


Music, Basketball, and the Love that Comes In-Between

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M, ImaKasa as reluctant quasi-friends, Music, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Sports, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (Also known as: The fic I didn't (and still don't) think I have the confidence to write.)Featuring Kasamatsu's university years and Female Reader.





	1. Clearing Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW OKAY SO I BET YOU DIDN'T EXPECT ME TO WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THIS.
> 
> Well, I started writing this for a lot of reasons, one of which is that I've always wanted to write this sort of thing, but never really felt like I could do so (mostly out of shame), until suddenly I just decided, "to hell with it." This fic isn't going to be consistently updated, like, ever (and will probably go unfinished, I think) but I wanted to contribute something.
> 
> Point of view alternates.
> 
> (Also, for your listening pleasure, I would like to add that I imagine Kasamatsu's song in this first chapter would sound a little something like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wVf9W2uMeT4 )

It all started a little while after their crushing defeat by the hands of Team Jabberwock.

The humiliation, the insult, the feeling of inferiority as he and the rest of his mock-up team were completely and utterly thrashed, it all felt worse than any other basketball loss he had felt before. Even the last game of the winter cup at Kaijou, where everyone had given their all and still came up short, hadn’t been as soul-crushing (though seeing his kouhai Kise nearly sobbing made his heart break just a bit more.)

Of course, he had no plans of quitting basketball, even after their loss to the American team, but there had been a blow to his spirits, and so he found himself in what he would probably call one hell of a slump.

Even Imayoshi (the conniving bastard had managed to get into the same university as Kasamatsu, and playing on team Strky with him was only a minor balm to his semi-bruised ego) felt somewhat sympathetic to his troubles, and had made an effort to make amends. Which was how he currently found himself being walked through the hallways of the campus towards the music wing after a shared mathematics lecture.

“Remind me why we’re going this way?” He asked.

“You’ll see.”

Soon enough, the two approached one of the composition rooms. Kasamatsu watched as Imayoshi removed his student keycard and opened the door. After stepping inside and turning on the light, Kasamatsu looked around at all the instruments in storage- there was a grand piano, a collection of brass instruments, a full drum set, and sheet music scattered all around. His eyes were immediately drawn to one of the instruments set aside from the others- an acoustic guitar.

“I’m not sure if the guitar is tuned or not, but I’ve been helpfully informed that you play, so I’m sure you’d be able to figure it out,” Imayoshi said, an almost-not-frightening smile on his face.

Kasamatsu turned to him with a mixture of intrigue and confusion.

“I figured that you might find relaxation in playing one of the guitars that hasn’t been rented by a student yet. I called in a favor, so you should be able to access the room, as long as you don’t actually take the guitar out of it. You can thank me later.”

“Do I even want to know how you knew I play the guitar? And what kind of favor did you call in?” Kasamatsu questioned, feeling more than a little peeved.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to,” Imayoshi replied cryptically.

Kasamatsu was half-tempted to pursue the line of conversation, but he thought better of it. Imayoshi was actually being surprisingly thoughtful, which should have been suspicious, but Kasamatsu figured he should be careful with picking his battles.

“So why are you going out of your way to help me?” He asked instead.

“What, can’t a rival-turned-ally be nice every once in awhile?” Imayoshi mock-pouted.

At Kasamatsu’s unimpressed look, he hummed and added, “It would boost the basketball team’s morale if you managed to pull yourself out of your slump.” His smile turned into more of a shit-eating grin then, and Kasamatsu was briefly reminded of how easy it was to despise him. “I’m sure you don’t like the taste of defeat now any more than you did in high school. Let’s ensure that we don’t experience it again.”

Kasamatsu wasn’t sure whether to be offended or grateful, so he chose instead to set down his bookbag and approach the guitar to strum it a few times. It seemed to be in tune. He was about to reluctantly (and perhaps a bit angrily) thank Imayoshi, but when he turned around, Imayoshi was nowhere to be found, and the only sign that he had even been around was the half-open door.

With a frown, Kasamatsu glanced back at the guitar case.

 _I might as well take advantage of the opportunity,_ he thought, removing the guitar as and plucking at the strings.

Shortly enough, he found himself getting lost in his music, playing a song with no real aim or direction, his fingers dancing across the strings, producing chord after chord, note after note. If he wanted to, he probably could have played a song or two from the radio, but he decided that freeform music was better for sorting out thoughts.

He sighed when he set down the guitar, feeling as though his mind was somewhat clearer.

At least, until he noticed the girl who was standing by the door and watching him.


	2. In search of a Recording Lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking further as you followed the sound, you finally saw a half-open door. The source of the music. Carefully, in an attempt to avoid startling whoever was playing the melody, you peeked your head inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... here's you!
> 
> I can't decide what to do in terms of how to address the reader by name, so for now I'm just excluding it.

The first thing you noticed as you walked through the hallways of the music wing was that it was oddly quiet. It wasn’t even past one in the afternoon, but none of the classes appeared to be in session and nobody else was in the hallway (aside from some smug-looking guy with glasses who happened to be passing by.) It seemed unusual, for a wing that was supposedly full of noise to be so silent.

Technically, you weren’t even supposed to be there; There was a whole complicated story behind your presence- A classmate of yours, Hara Kaito, had recorded a video of the university’s percussion practice to give to his younger brother, but had accidentally left the disc in one of the recording labs, and you had offered to retrieve it for him despite not knowing which room the lab was in. You weren’t even sure if your keycard would work on the locked music hall doors since you were only taking general electives that semester.

Nonetheless, you made your way through the hallways, determined to find the lab- and you were sure you had almost found it, when the first few notes of an unknown song drifted through the air.

It wasn’t unrefined playing, no, whoever was making the music knew what they were doing. And yet, there was something about the music that didn’t seem planned- maybe it was in the way there were intermittent pauses, like the composer was thinking of what to play next. Something experimental. You didn’t frequently use the word “mystifying”, but there was something about the music’s tone that made you feel a sense of awe. Despite knowing you had a job to do, you couldn’t help but wander towards the sound of the music. It wasn’t as though you were in any immediate hurry, you convinced yourself.

Walking further as you followed the sound, you finally saw a half-open door. The source of the music. Carefully, in an attempt to avoid startling whoever was playing the melody, you peeked your head inside.

There was a man in there, with short, black, spiky hair, thick eyebrows, and an intense expression on his face as he stared off into the distance. That, along with the directionless playing of the guitar, perhaps as if every movement was just muscle memory, indicated that he probably didn’t want to be disturbed. So you didn’t say anything, but merely watched and listened. As time passed, his expression seemed to ease… somewhat. Thinking on it, the guy seemed sort of familiar, but you were sure you weren’t in any classes with him either.

But then, where did you know him from?

Pondering, you didn’t realize that the man had stopped playing until you heard a loud sigh. Snapping out of your thoughts, you were prepared to: 1. Compliment his guitar skills, and 2. Ask where you could find the recording lab.

But you never got to, because as soon as he saw you, his expression turned into one like a deer in headlights.

There were several moments of eye contact, in which the man looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the recording lab? I need to pick something up,” You said in an attempt to ease the situation. Looking back on it, it was probably surprising (and maybe embarrassing) for someone to be caught pouring their troubles into a song with no warning, and you felt just the tiniest bit guilty.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t really know where that is. I’m just a math student, and I was… ah, that is, I h-haven’t...”

The poor guy looked like he wanted to head for the hills.

“That’s okay, I can probably find it myself,” You said awkwardly, and added, “You’re good at playing the guitar, by the way. Even if you aren’t a music student.”

“Thanks.”

There was another prolonged silence, until suddenly the man packed the guitar back into its case, picked up his bookbag, and hurried out of the room with a strained “Excuse me.”

You were about to follow suit to continue your search for the recording lab, when you noticed a slip of paper had fallen from the bookbag. You picked it up, and exited the room, calling out.

“Hey, you dropped your…”

But he was already gone.

Frowning, you took a closer look at the piece of paper that the man had left behind. It was some sort of training schedule, with a few notes scrawled onto it. There was a name on the upper right corner, in crisp kanji:

_Kasamatsu Yukio._

The paper looked important enough, and it was then that you decided you’d try to find this “Kasamatsu Yukio” again, if only to return it to him (and maybe, just maybe, figure out why he rang a bell.)

But first, you had to find that freaking recording lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Kasamatsu is bad at dealing with girls and gets shaky and nervous when talking to them. Also, Hara Kazuya plays drums and has an older brother in his family. Thanks KnB wiki!

**Author's Note:**

> Berate me at doomedtemperament.tumblr.com


End file.
